"And?" he said encouragingly.
"Why, that makes us almost brothers!" Uthmar exclaimed, waving both hands in the air. "That's why he asked me to take special care of you—and your friends, of course—if you should happen to stop off in Tunnel's End."
"Take care of us, is it? And just what were you having in mind in that regard?" Bahzell asked politely.
"Well, it's plain enough you're not in need of armor. Not—" Uthmar sniffed "—that I couldn't have fixed you up with some much superior to old Kara— But that's neither here nor there! You've adequate armor, and I'll assume you have weapons as well?" He looked expectantly up at the towering hradani, who nodded in confirmation. "I thought so. I thought so! But I'll wager there's one thing you don't have, Milord Champion, and that's a first-rate watch!"
"A watch?" Bahzell blinked. "And what in Tomanāk's name would such as I be needing with a watch?"
"Everyone needs a good watch, Milord!" Uthmar asserted. "If you've never had one, you can't begin to imagine how much more efficiently it lets you organize your day! Anyone who works to a schedule needs one, and especially mariners!"
"Mariners?" Brandark's ears cocked sharply. "Why do mariners need watches?"
"For navigation, Milord—for navigation!" Uthmar shook his head. "A seaman must know precisely the right time to take his position sightings. That requires the finest chronometer he can get, and with all due modesty, there's not a finer timepiece in all Norfressa than the ones in this shop."
He waved an arm to indicate his ticking wares, and Brandark followed the gesture with intent eyes.
"Really?" he murmured.
"Assuredly, Milord. Most assuredly. And, of course, he'll need a good sextant, as well, and it just happens that Uthmar and Sons markets the finest Crystal Water Cavern optical instruments and sextants."
"I see."
Bahzell could almost feel his companion's palms beginning to itch, and he gave the Bloody Sword a stern glance, then looked back to Uthmar.
"It's honored I am that you should be thinking of us, but I'm thinking we'll do well enough without such, and it wouldn't do for us to be spending Duke Jashân's credit for aught we don't need, so—"
"Oh, but it isn't Duke Jashân's credit," Uthmar broke in. "It's Kilthan's."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said it's Kilthan's. He set up a credit line for you himself."
"Did he, now?" Bahzell murmured, and his eyes began to twinkle.
"My, my. Wasn't that kind of old Kilthan," Brandark said.
"Now, now, lad. Let's not go coming all over grasping. I'm thinking Kilthan had more in mind than to be turning two greedy little boys loose in a candy store."
"Then he should have said so," Brandark argued. "I mean, he does know us, Bahzell. Do you think for one minute he doesn't know how telling us that would affect any self-respecting hradani?"
"Aye, like as not he does—or should. But that's not so much the point as—"
"Oh, come now, Bahzell," Kaeritha interrupted. "Brandark's completely correct. Anyone who's ever met the two of you—well, him, at least!—must have known what he'd be letting himself in for."
"Anyone who met me?" Brandark demanded in injured tones, and she laughed.
"Unless all those books we're lugging around belong to someone else named Brandark Brandarkson!" she shot back, and Brandark made a fencing master's gesture to indicate a touch.
"Now just the both of you be holding on—" Bahzell began, only to be interrupted yet again, this time by Uthmar.
"I really could make you a very nice price on one of my finest watches, Milord Champion. And perhaps one for your illustrious father? And a clock for your mother?"
Bahzell paused, mouth open, then closed it with a click. As Brandark had said, he was a hradani, and the hradani habit of returning home from uninvited visits with odds and ends which had somehow gotten into their pockets was a strong one. Of course, it went against all tradition to actually pay anyone for those odds and ends, but under the circumstances...
His eyes strayed back to the beautifully illuminated faces of the gold- and silver-cased watches, and he felt that centuries old acquisitiveness tingling in his bones.
"You were saying as how old Kilthan set up a credit line?" Uthmar nodded. "And what sort of limit was he after putting on it?"
"He didn't," Uthmar said with a wicked little smile of his own. "I can't imagine how he came to be so forgetful. But, there—he is getting on a bit in years, you know. Still, he's also a kinsman. Don't you think I owe it to him to teach him not to be guilty of such oversights in the future?"
"No doubt you do, no doubt you do," Bahzell murmured. He looked back up at Kaeritha, then glanced across at Brandark and grinned. "Now, then, Uthmar," he said, "just exactly how much were you saying these watches of yours were costing?"
Chapter Sixteen
A courier from Kilthandahknarthas was waiting late the next day when Bahzell and his companions finally emerged from the tunnel into the city of Mountain Heart.
Actually, they emerged not so much into as through Mountain Heart, for the city burrowed for over eight miles into the base of White Horn Mountain. Despite its size, Mountain Heart was one of Dwarvenhame's younger cities, having come into existence only after work began on the tunnel. The tunnel's construction had been a joint effort of all the other cities—each of which had, for all intents and purposes, been a totally independent city-state at the time—and Mountain Heart had been intended from the beginning to serve as Dwarvenhame's interface with the Empire of the Axe. Legally, the dwarvish province had actually been a part of the Empire for a little less than a century, but its cities had been an integral part of the Empire's economy for several hundred years, and its people had realized eventual union was inevitable. Still, dwarves seldom rushed into anything, especially when it involved formal relationships with nondwarves, and so they had eased into the new affiliation, and Mountain Heart had been part of that process.
The fact that all the older cities had cooperated in its founding had also led to a degree of interclan mixing which was virtually unheard of among dwarves outside the old Royal and Imperial borders. Dwarves were the most clannish of all the Races of Man. Although few of them shared the sort of arrogant belief in their own inevitable superiority which distinguished the Purple Lords, they did keep very much to themselves, and that held true even in dealings with their own kind. Traditionally, a dwarf's city was also his kingdom, even more independent of one another than the half-elvish city-states of the south, and most dwarvish cities were populated almost exclusively by—or certainly completely dominated by—an alliance of no more than two or three great clans. Their familial structures were so extended and so intricately defined that nondwarves might have been excused from noticing that, but the dwarves knew, and each of their great clans tended to evolve its own distinct, often insular personality over the centuries.
Because of the peculiar alloy of its citizens, Mountain Heart had less of that insularity. It was also closer to the rest of the Empire physically, as well as in outlook, as part of its role as a buffer for the rest of Dwarvenhame. As such, it had a sizable year-round human population and routinely welcomed a far larger seasonal influx of human labor during the winter months than did Dwarvenhame's other cities, and it showed. The travelers had encountered a substantial leavening of humans throughout their trip through the tunnel; once they reached Mountain Heart, the proportion of humans to dwarves increased radically, and, like Belhadan, the fusion of more than one Race of Man had produced a distinct impact on the city's character and architecture.
Unlike its sister cities, Mountain Heart spilled well out beyond the mountain into which it was cut. Its permanent human population was more addicted to seeing the sky, and sturdy stone houses extended for several miles in all directions from the half-dozen entryways cut into the base of the White Horn. Yet as Bahzell emerged from the tunnel and started down the ramp which led up to it, he noticed something very odd about the open-air portion of the city. The first oddity was almost instantly obvious, for Mountain Heart's outer fortifications were almost rudimentary. No doubt they were adequate for routine security, and they could probably be held for at least a short time even against a serious attack, yet they offered far too little depth to permit any long-term defense against an enemy who meant business.